The Interloper
by Shellecah
Summary: When Matt hires wartime friend Eli Sinclair as deputy, Eli makes it his job to pester Chester.
1. Chapter 1

Dust billowed through the morning air warm in the wake of summer, as wagons, buggies and riders filled Front Street in the first days of harvest season. The cattle drives had invaded Dodge City, and folks packed the walkways, restaurants, stores and saloons.

Hurrying to meet Mr. Dillon riding in from Fort Dodge on the stage, Chester saw strangers who looked rough, and some were drunk despite the early hour. He took care not to jostle them as he wove his way through the crowd. Not knowing he worked for the marshal, a few men sneered at Chester, one laughed and another eyed him like he was a rabbit in a snare.

Breathing hard, he reached the station as the stage rolled in. Chester greeted Matt with a smile as he stepped down from the coach. "Mr. Dillon."

"Chester." Matt looked up at the stage roof and caught his carryall as the shotgun rider tossed it to him. The man picked up a small trunk and threw it to a burly fellow who descended from the stage behind Matt.

"Did yer ride go easy?" said Chester, taking the marshal's bag.

"Fine," said Matt. "This is Eli Sinclair. I'm signing him on as special deputy marshal while the trail herds come through, 'til wintertime. Eli's a friend of mine from the war, Chester. He was working as a guard at Fort Dodge."

Sinclair's crystalline reddish-brown eyes were long with peculiar points at the corners, making Chester think of knives. About three inches shorter than Matt and two inches taller than Chester, Eli was four or five years older than the marshal and bigger, with thick bones and muscles bulging through his suit. He had chiseled even features, a strong jaw slashed with a deep cleft, a tightly set well-formed mouth and clean light-tan complexion.

He looked impassively at Chester, who felt a wriggle of foreboding in his belly. He thought Sinclair appeared stern and un-neighborly, and wondered why Mr. Dillon would like or trust him. Chester did not extend his hand for a shake, and Matt regarded him quizzically, mildly annoyed.

The cattle drives and cooler weather incited more fights, robbery and gunplay in Dodge. The marshal needed Eli's steady head, limber reflexes, hard fists and fast draw, and Matt needed Chester to get on with Sinclair and take his orders with no fuss. Eli was an imposing, at times forceful man of the sort that made Chester wary, and Matt figured he should have anticipated trouble from Chester.

"You be sleepin' nights at a roomin' house, will you?" Chester said to Eli.

"I'll sleep at the jailhouse," Eli said in a resonant bass voice. "Dodge will have a lawman there from now on, sunup to sunup." He held out his trunk to Chester, who made no move to take it.

"Reckon you kin manage that," said Chester.

Matt gave Sinclair a watchful look. "I calculate I can," said Eli, his eyes boring into Chester's.

With Chester and Eli on either side of Matt, they walked to the marshal's office. "From now on," said Chester. "But yer workin' with us jest 'til wintertime?"

"That's right," Matt answered for Sinclair.

Chester opened the door and stepped aside for Matt and then Eli to go in ahead of him. He put Matt's carryall on the desk, pulled a badge from the drawer and handed it to the marshal, who passed it to Eli.

"There's coffee a simmerin'," said Chester. He poured cups for Matt and Sinclair.

"Thanks," said Matt.

Eli took the steaming cup. His bright eyes looking hard at Chester, he removed his hat and held it out. He had plentiful, waving chestnut hair worn long on his neck, nearly the same color as his eyes and carefully combed to best effect.

Chester did not take the hat. "There's a spare peg by the door," he said. "Ah'll drug a bed fer you out from the jail."

"The cells are empty at the moment," said Matt, as he and Eli sat at the table.

"Won't be long," said Eli. "Front Street's none too peaceful, and the rest of town is likely rowdier."

"Back street's the worst," said Matt. "There's a shoddy saloon row selling three-cent beer and six-cent whiskey. A coupla opium dens. And carnal houses."

"That so." Eli uncovered sizable teeth in a dazzling grin. Setting up the jail cell bunk against the wall across from his bed, Chester thought Sinclair looked like a wolf baring its fangs.

"I might visit those houses betimes, Matt," said Eli. Matt chuckled.

Chester poured a cup of coffee and joined them at the table. Eli's smile vanished and he looked askance at Chester, who suppressed an impulse to dash his coffee in the deputy's face. He looked at Chester like he was a mouse that scuttled up on the table, so he felt hot to his bones and his face burned. Sensing the tension between them like tightly stretched barbed wire, Matt wondered if he'd acted unwisely in hiring Eli.

A gunshot cracked in the distance, followed by a burst of drunken laughter. The marshal and Sinclair had not removed their gunbelts, and when Matt rose from his chair, Eli quickly stood up, as did Chester.

"Stay here and man the office, Chester," Eli ordered. "Someone might show needing help, or to report a crime."

"You want I should come with you, right, Mr. Dillon?" said Chester.

"That's alright, Chester," said Matt. "Eli will patrol with me."

"I don't haveta stay shet up in here, do I?" said Chester.

"No," said Matt. "I never tell you to sit in the office all day unless I need you here for a sound reason, and it makes no sense to tell you now."

"Oh," said Chester, relieved. "I guess maybe then I'll go see Miss Kitty."

"Who is Miss Kitty," said Eli.

"A friend." Refusing to meet the flinty gaze, Chester felt Eli's eyes like pricking icicles.

"Kitty owns the Long Branch," said Matt.

"You drink and chat on the job then, Chester?" said Eli.

"I always assist when Mr. Dillon needs me. Ain't that right, Mr. Dillon."

"You do fine, Chester," said Matt. "Go on and see Kitty; have yourself a beer."

"Thank you. I will," said Chester, with a dignified air. He put on his hat, went outside and merged with the crowd on Front Street. He had no desire to take another stroll in Eli's company, and limped fast to move ahead of the deputy and Matt.

"He's a character, that one," said Eli, walking beside the marshal. "I recollect you take in strays, Matt. Remember in the war, that ancient slave we came across near starved, trying to make his way north? You fed and clothed him and put boots on him, and wouldn't let a one of us say a harsh word to him. You took care of him until that Sioux mission in the north of Dakota Territory took him in. Never saw a white man so respectful to a black man as you were to that old-timer."

"I couldn't let the old man die," said Matt. "He had no one else."

"Chester's not much use to you, is he."

"He's of great use to me. He's the only man I trust in this town except the doctor, Doc Adams."

"And me," Eli laughingly said. "You're leaving me out."

"I don't know about you yet, Eli. I trusted you when we fought together in the war. I'm just realizing how much you've changed."

"War does things to people," said Eli. "But you can trust me to do a good job, Matt. Is this on account of what I said about Chester? I see you set store by him, like all of 'em you take under your wings. Like beloved pets."

Matt stopped walking and gestured to a passage between the milliner's and barbershop. "Let's talk over here," said the marshal.

"You gonna hit me?" said Eli, following Matt into the passage. "Job or no, any man hits me gets hit a sight harder. You have two, three inches on me, Matt, but I'm bigger than you."

"I won't hit ya unless I see the need," said Matt. "Chester's no lackey, Eli. You want this job, you best change your ways around him. You give him an order, do it man to man or not at all."

"Alright," said Eli. "Though I can't imagine him carrying out any save the most menial duties without mucking it."

"That's how you think, then maybe you're not the man for the job," said Matt. "Maybe hiring you was a mistake."

"It was no mistake. I can't help what I see, but I can keep it to myself. Hard to believe you'd let that sort of fellow jeopardize our friendship, Matt."

Matt felt his dander kindle like a hot flicker in his chest. Folks at times belittled Chester to the marshal, and Matt never could accustom himself to their derision without feeling at least a little riled.

"If our friendship is jeopardized, it's your doing, Eli," said Matt. "You head for the back street and I'll walk Front Street. We'll meet at the center of town near the surveyors and cattle buyers, find Chester and lunch at Delmonico's."

The marshal had decided not to invite Kitty and Doc to join them for lunch. Matt knew that Chester, in that pitiable way he had when his feelings were injured, would detail at length to Kitty every insult Eli had inflicted on him. Kitty would either refuse to dine with Eli, or if she did, act cold to him, as she made no effort to abide anyone who hurt Chester.

As things were, Matt figured she'd temper at him for hiring Eli, and the marshal wanted to delay her scolding, hoping time would pacify Kitty. And not yet knowing if he'd tell Eli to turn in his badge, Matt saw no reason to introduce him to Doc.

"You dine out with your jailkeeper?" said Eli.

Matt blew out his breath in an exasperated gust. "Eli, when did you become so confounded conceited," he said.

"Alright easy," said Eli. "I'll eat lunch with him if that's what you want. It surprises me is all. I thought we'd patrol the streets together, Matt. You implied that at the office."

"We'll get it done faster apart," said Matt.

A trail hand ran toward him a moment after Eli left. _"Marshal! Marshal!" _the cowboy shouted. _"A fella's holding up the bank!"_

Matt broke into a run, the cowpoke at his heels. "Don't follow me,"Matt panted. The drover paid him no mind of course, not that one man staying clear of danger would make a difference. Men and women hemmed the bank like circusgoers watching an escape artist.

A man tore through the spectators, his gun leveled in one hand and two bulging sacks in the other. Matt whipped out his six-shooter and the onlookers backed away, the men holding onto their womenfolk. _"Hold it!" _Matt yelled.

Like a light-footed dancer, the man pivoted to face Matt. _"Drop the gun!" _said Matt. The man stood motionless, staring wide-eyed at the marshal.

"_Drop it," _said Matt.

"Lord, please have mercy on my poor soul," the man jabbered as Matt aimed his gun at him. "I repent of all my sins, including this here." The man heaved in a breath. "I'm just holstering my gun, Marshal. I won't shoot, swear."

"_I said drop it," _said Matt.

The robber cautiously holstered his gun. "Ain't never killed no one, Marshal," he said. "Never even shot a man."

Matt took a long slow step closer to him. The man shrugged. "What the deuce," he said. He jumped off the walk into the street and ran, still holding the money sacks. Mid height and build and tending on the slim side, he looked less than thirty years old and was quick. Not a fast runner himself, Matt knew he couldn't overtake the man that way.

Though people crowded the walkways, the street in the direction where the man ran was for the moment empty. Matt ran after him and rapid-fired into the dirt around his boots. Gripping the money sacks, the robber sprang away from the bullets as though dancing a jig, which slowed him down.

Holstering his gun as he ran, Matt caught up to the man, snaked the robber's gun from the holster and grabbed his arm. He bucked like a wild mustang, and Matt stuck the robber's gun in his belt to free both hands. _"Drop those bags and quit struggling or I'll chop ya one," _Matt commanded.

More from exhaustion than surrender, the man dropped the sacks and sagged in Matt's grip. "What's your name," said Matt.

"Nation. Merciful Nation."

"Merciful?" Matt said.

"My parents are Puritan," said Nation. "Folks call me Merse."

"You're going to jail, Merse."

When Matt arrived at the marshal's office with Merse, Eli had locked up a cardsharp who'd pistol-whipped a player for accusing him of palming cards at a back street shack of a saloon called The Two-Shot. "He goes by Griswold," said Eli. "That's the only name he'll give me. All the players saw him palming cards, and he went after the one who called him on it. No thanks to him, the man he beat will survive. Doc said the man has a severe concussion."

"You met Doc?" said Matt.

"I did, and it was a pleasure. He seems a good doctor, first impression."

"The best," said Matt.

"I figured we'd save some time if I met up with you here instead of the center of town," said Eli. "I'll drag the bed Chester set up for me back in the jail cell." He took hold of the bed and started moving it as he spoke. "Merse has to have a bunk," he said.

"I'm deputy marshal and Chester has no ranking," Eli said after he returned the bed to the cell. "That means he bunks on the floor."

"It does not," said Matt. "That's Chester's bed and you're not taking it from him. You can afford a room, Eli."

"You trust him to man the jail alone nights with the trail herds in town and lawbreaking on the rise? That's irresponsible, Matt."

"Chester's slept here by himself with the drives comin' through before, and everything ran smoothly," said Matt.

"I'll stay here nights anyway," said Eli. "You don't know but something might come up he's not fit to handle. I'll sleep on a bedroll on the floor."

"Suit yourself," said Matt.

"I gather your trusty assistant's been drinking all this time at the Long Branch," said Eli. "Shall we fetch him and go to lunch?"

"We feed the prisoners first," said Matt. "Jerky for lunch, and Chester fried up some pone this morning we can give them cold. Water and hot coffee, every meal."

"That's the jailkeeper's job, Matt," said Eli. "Since he pulled a disappearing act, I'll help you do it."

"Chester doesn't know we arrested two men," said Matt.

"Well, Matt, if he was any good at the job, he'd come by once in a while and check."

Matt felt an irritating tightness like a cramp in his head, pressing his temples. "Eli, I value your help, but if you don't like the way I do things here, you're free to take off the badge and leave."

Eli shook his head. "No. You have a man don't pull his weight, you need me more than ever. I'm staying, Matt."

They fed Merse and Griswold, and were about to head for the Long Branch to meet Chester when he walked in the office. "Chester," said Matt. "We're goin' for lunch. You comin'?"

"Yeah . . . ." said Chester. Though he had no wish to eat with Eli, he'd seen the sign outside Delmonico's with the day's lunch menu—chicken pie, with sugared berries in cream for dessert.

"This is opportune for you," Eli said to Chester. "Marshal Dillon and I feed the prisoners, and you show up when we're ready to go to the restaurant."

"Well ah . . . I di'n't knowed we had no prizners," Chester said sheepishly. "I had a lot ta talk 'bout with Miss Kitty, Mr. Dillon. If I'd a knowed there was men to see to in the cells, ah'd a comed straightaway."

"That's alright, Chester," said Matt. "The one in the near cell's a bank robber. Name of Merciful Nation."

"Uh . . . Merciful?" said Chester.

"Huh?" said Merse from the jail cell, his mouth full of jerky.

"He goes by Merse," said Matt. "The other's a cardsharp, pistol-whipped a player who caught him cheating. He's just called Griswold."

Chester nodded, then looked into Eli's crystal-hard eyes. "I calculate now both cell bunks in use, you'll git yaself a room somewheres," said Chester.

"I will not," said Eli. "Marshal Dillon says I'm not to take your bed, so I'll bunk on the floor." His eyes wouldn't let Chester look away.

The marshal touched his shoulder. "Come on, Chester," said Matt.

When Eli said he'd go with Matt to the Long Branch for a beer that night, Chester told the marshal he would stay at the office, though he visited Kitty most nights, even when he'd seen her earlier in the day. He knew he couldn't rest easy and enjoy Miss Kitty's company with Eli there trying to trick Mr. Dillon and Miss Kitty into thinking he was affable by baring his teeth in that grimace he passed off as a smile.

From what the deputy said at lunch, he had wormed into Doc's affections too, praising Doc to Mr. Dillon to deceive the marshal into thinking Eli was honorable when he was a snake in truth. Doc likely would be at the Long Branch, and Chester figured that to keep Mr. Dillon's good graces, Eli would butter Doc up, knowing Doc was important in town.

Eli scared Chester. He felt tense and cold with anxiety at the thought of passing nights alone with the deputy while Mr. Dillon slept in his room at Ma Smalley's. Chester had told Miss Kitty all about Eli's stern haughty ways, and knew she would see through his sham friendliness to his devious heart. Miss Kitty had no use for that breed, and Chester felt gratified knowing she'd snub Eli with Mr. Dillon and Doc there to see her do it.

Kitty recognized Eli from Chester's description before Matt introduced him, and beyond Chester's criticism of the man, she instinctively disliked him. Sitting at a table with Doc, Kitty watched Matt and the deputy.

"There he is, Doc," said Kitty. "Eli Sinclair. The snobbish brute. How dare he treat Chester that way."

Matt and Eli moved to the bar to order beers. Doc looked at Kitty's set chin, her mouth tightened to a thin line and her smoldering eyes darkened to midnight blue.

"You might wanna give Eli a chance, Kitty," said Doc. "He's Matt's friend; they served in the same regiment. And Matt appointed him special deputy U.S. marshal. It's a respectable position."

"_Doc," _Kitty snapped. "That's just what I'm talking about. Who cares about . . . _position_. He's a prideful _ass._"

"Didn't seem prideful when I met him this morning," said Doc. "Nice . . . well-spoken fella, seemed to me."

"He's fawning up to you because you're the only doctor in town and that makes you prestigious," said Kitty. "How can you admire him when he insulted Chester."

"That's kind of unfair, Kitty," said Doc. "You haven't even met Eli. You're going entirely on what Chester said, and you know how he gets things in a jumble."

"Doc, how can you. You're . . . _demeaning _. . . Chester, just like Sinclair is."

Doc jerked his chin at Kitty. "I most certainly am not," he said. "I never . . . demean Chester, never. He jumbles things and you know he does, Kitty."

"I know," said Kitty. "I'm sorry, Doc. I just don't think he's confused about Sinclair."

"Here they come," said Doc.

"Hello, Kitty," said the marshal, tipping his hat. "Doc."

"Matt," said Doc. "Eli."

"Kitty," said Matt, "This is Eli Sinclair."

"Ma'am." Eli smiled and touched his hat brim.

Kitty nodded, not returning his smile. "Have a seat," she said to Eli. "Matt, can I talk to you at the bar?"

"Sure," said Matt, bracing himself for her displeasure. Matt sensed her distress, and figured Chester had unburdened his feelings to Kitty about Eli.

Holding his beer, Matt followed her to the end of the bar. "Matt," said Kitty, "why don't you thrash that man good and run 'im outa town."

Matt grinned. "He hasn't said anything objectionable enough to warrant a thrashing, Kitty, and if he does, I'll be hard put to give it to him. I doubt there's a man in Kansas can best Eli Sinclair in a fight."

"I don't think you understand what Sinclair is," said Kitty. "I don't think you're seeing him clearly, Matt. Cuz I know how you care for Chester."

Matt sobered. "Kitty, you just met the man. You're goin' on what Chester said."

"That's what Doc told me," said Kitty. "You both seem to think Chester's too simple-minded to know what he's talking about."

"I didn't say that, Kitty."

"You didn't have to. Chester has his own way of seeing things, but he's not feeble-minded, Matt. He knows when someone's trying to break him."


	2. Chapter 2

Although he wanted to shut the jail door on the cardsharp Griswold, a shifty-eyed character with a sinister demeanor, Chester left the door opened wide that night so the bank robber Merce could see whatever might happen while Mr. Dillon was out.

"I guess you know I want your bed, Chester," said Eli. Chester lay reading a frontier melodrama, and he sat up and swung his feet still in their boots to the floor when the deputy spoke.

" 'Tain't much of a bed," said Chester. "Tickin's jest corn husks and straw."

Merse rose from his bunk in the jail cell, moved to the bars and wrapped his fingers around them, watching.

"It's better than the floor," said Eli. He stood by the bed awaiting an answer, staring with his knife-slash eyes at Chester. Holding Eli's gaze, Chester stood up.

"_You _aim to challenge my authority?" said Eli. "I think not. You're Marshal Dillon's friend, so he can't see how incompetent you are. I can help you improve, though, Chester. I'm a tolerable fellow if you cooperate and respect my rank here."

"I don't need your help," said Chester. "How 'bout you ride out and never come back."

Eli sucked in his breath, shifting his boots and blinking in surprise at Chester's retort. With deliberate movements, he stepped to the jail door and took hold of the knob. "Leave it open," Chester said. His hand on the knob, Eli turned to face Chester.

"Mr. Dillon checks in when he's done 'is rounds," said Chester. " 'Fore he heads to his room at Ma Smalley's. He'll be by right along, maybe."

Eli hesitated, then let go of the knob, leaving the door open. "Don't tell me what to do, or talk to me like I'm some two-bit cow hand," he said, his blood-brown eyes glittering. "You _will _respect and obey me, or I'll reduce you to a groveling sycophant. And if you ever speak to me like that again, I'll break your neck."

"Well you can't have my bed," said Chester, his heart thumping.

Eli's lips curled back from clenched teeth. He grabbed Chester's shirt, and as he raised his other hand, palm out, Matt walked in.

Eli and Chester looked at Matt, then the deputy lowered his hand, let go of Chester's shirt and stepped back. The marshal took off his hat, hung it on the peg and moved close to Eli. "Eli," said Matt. "What's going on?"

"Matt," said Eli. "Chester and I had words. Almost got into a tussle."

"A tussle," said Matt. "Looked like you were fixin' to smack him."

"I guess I lost my temper," said Eli. "I didn't intend to, Matt. He disrespected me. Told me to ride out and never come back. And he forbade me to close the jail door."

Matt moved to the door and started to close it. "I seen and heard all, Marshal," said Merce from his cell. "The deputy threatened Chester. Tried to slither in his head to make him belly-crawl. Said Chester would obey him and such as that."

The cardsharp Griswold spoke from the other cell. "I heard what went on, too, Dillon," he said in his oily voice. "Sounded to me like the deputy was just learning your jailkeep his place."

"Oh hesh up, Griswold," said Chester.

"You're far too indulgent with that Chester, Dillon," said Griswold. "You need to rein him in."

"Matt," said Eli, "you're not thinking on believing anything a thieving outlaw like Merce says."

"Chester?" said Matt.

"Eli and I had a misunderstanding, Mr. Dillon," said Chester, looking at the deputy.

Matt closed the jail door. "There's no point having another man on the payroll if you two won't partner and back each other," he said. "Chester, I expect you to take orders from Eli long as he wears the badge."

Eli lifted his jaw and narrowed his eyes, his chest swelling as he regarded Chester. "That's what I told him, Matt."

"But Mr. Dillon," said Chester.

"You staying awhile before you go on to your rooming house, Matt?" said Eli. "You took your hat off."

"I'm bunking here tonight," said Matt. "I'll sleep on the floor."

Chester's face sagged in relief. "You take the bed, Mr. Dillon. I'll sleep on the floor."

"Alright," said Matt.

"No need for you to spend the night here, Matt," said Eli. "I'll handle anything comes up."

"Come outside and talk a minute, Eli," said Matt. He opened the side door leading to the alley back of the jail.

Chester pulled his bedroll out from under the bed. "You _are _stayin' the night, aren't you, Mr. Dillon?"

"I'm staying, Chester."

Eli followed Matt outside. The night was warm with a mild breeze. Frost and thunderstorms would not hit Dodge for a month at the least. A discordant symphony of player piano music from a dozen or more saloons rent the air, along with raucous voices and laughter.

"If Chester says or does anything you think he shouldn't, tell me and I'll speak to him," said Matt. "Hit him and you're through here."

"You're too soft, Matt," said Eli. "You always were. And all the more since you're particular fond of Chester. He knows you are and he takes advantage. There's nothing wrong with slapping some sense into a subordinate."

Matt moved in on the deputy and thrust his face close until their noses almost touched. "I mean it, Eli. It's not up for discussion. Keep your hands off him."

"You hit me, Matt, you better hope Doc's in his office. You'll need his services."

"Maybe," said Matt. "That won't stop me if you don't take heed about Chester. And I'll run you out of town when I'm done mending."

"Why don't you sack me now, Matt? Seeing you're riled at me."

"Eli, we were friends in the same battalion. You didn't ask for this job. I offered it to you, and you took the trip here from Fort Dodge on my word. I figure I owe it to you to give you a chance. I need a strong man fast on the draw who can fight and think quick on his feet, and that's you."

"I appreciate that," said Eli. "I won't let you down, Matt."

_M.D.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

"You sleepin' here again, Mr. Dillon?" Chester said hopefully, when Matt stopped by the office after his rounds the next night.

"Town's a lot quieter tonight," said Matt. "Still just two men in jail. You keep order just by walkin' the streets, Eli."

"Thanks," said Eli.

"Mr. Dillon?" said Chester.

"I'll go on to Ma's tonight, Chester."

Eli waited until Matt passed the window and they could no longer hear his bootsteps outside, then he moved to close the jail door. "Close that door, ah'll open it agin," said Chester. "We kin open 'an close it the night long iffen ya want."

"You're talking like a fool," said Eli. "Why would you do that."

"I don't want to. But I will, that's what it takes."

Eli shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he said, leaving the door open. "Marshal Dillon won't believe a word Merce says. The marshal knows he twists the truth. And you're too proud to say anything to Matt, Chester."

"Say anythin' ta Mr. Dillon 'bout what. What would Merce have to twist the truth for," Chester said warily.

"You gave up your bed to Marshal Dillon last night without him ordering you," said Eli.

"He shouldn't haveta order me," said Chester. "It'd be shameful lettin' a United States marshal sleep on the floor."

"Yet you're planning to let me sleep on the floor," said Eli.

"Yer jest special deputy marshal. Special don't wear the badge permanent. " 'Tain't the same."

"I warned you about disrespecting me." Eli approached the bed where Chester sat. Like the night before, Chester had not removed his boots, and again he rose and faced Eli.

"You'll have a bone in your craw 'til you fight me, Sinclair," said Chester. "So go 'head, unless you ain't got the gizzard ta fight with naught but yer flappin' tongue." Eli slapped him, so swiftly Chester didn't see it coming.

"You deserved that, jailkeep," Griswold called from his cell. "Give 'im some more, Deputy."

"Why don't you shut your mouth, Griswold," Merse said from the other cell.

Lacking the strength and forceful temperament of a fighter, Chester swung reluctantly at Eli. The deputy grabbed Chester's arm before his fist touched Eli's face. "I'm sleeping in that bed from now on," said Eli.

"You ain't gonna be here from now on!" said Chester.

Eli yanked Chester away from the bed and shoved him. He fell, and Eli pulled Chester's bedroll out from under the bed and threw it at him. Chester sat on the floor with the bedroll in his lap, rubbing his arm and scowling at the deputy.

"You ain't nothin' but a ruffian, Sinclair," Chester said darkly. "You're bad as Griswold; that's why he takes to you. You'll come to a bad end, you don't mend yer ways."

Eli sat on the bed and pulled off his boots. "Quit carping and shut up," he said.

"I seen and heard all, and I'm telling the marshal tomorrow," said Merse.

"Hold your tongue or you'll get some of the same," said Eli.

Chester's shoulder hurt and his arm throbbed. "Why don't ya bed down in the trash barrel," he said to the deputy. "Thet's whar you b'long."

"You tell 'im, Chester," said Merse.

"You get one more chance, Chester," said Eli. "Say another word and I'll bust your head."

Chester climbed to his feet, limped to the row of shotguns against the wall and picked one up. "You won't dare use that," said Eli. "You'll go to prison if you shoot me, and you'll hang if I die."

" 'Tain't loaded," said Chester. He put the shotgun on the floor, spread out his bedroll, snuffed the lamp and lay down with the weapon beside him, his hand holding the barrel. "Hit me agin an' ah'll split your face with this," he said.

"You're lunatic," said Eli. "Matt oughta throw you out in the street." He lay on Chester's bed. "I've no reason to hit you again, anyway," the deputy said. "I got what I want."

Eli was an early riser. Out of bed an hour before sunup, he shaved, washed and combed his hair, and with his boot nudged Chester awake. "Get cleaned up and fix us some breakfast," Eli ordered.

Chester obeyed without comment, frying eggs, spuds 'n onions and flatbread in fatback, and making coffee. The shoulder Eli had wrenched last night hurt worse, and he rotated it every few minutes.

Eli sat at the table. "Stop straggling and serve it while it's hot," he said.

"We feed the prizners first," said Chester.

"Well pour me some coffee while I wait."

"Merse 'n Griswold gits coffee 'fore us, too," Chester said.

"Rubbish," said Eli. "Matt pampers his prisoners. He hasn't hardened any with age, that's sure."

Chester fixed plates for Merse and Griswold, and was serving the deputy when Matt arrived. He stood just inside the door, watching Chester and Eli.

Chester glanced at the marshal. "Mr. Dillon." He picked up the pot and poured coffee for the deputy while Matt watched. "You want breakfast?" Chester's eyes were shadowed and he looked strained.

"No thanks," said the marshal, taking off his hat. "I ate at Ma's."

"Your assistant's not a bad cook, Matt," said Eli, eating with relish. "A little greasy and overdone, but it's free so I'm not complaining."

"Can I talk to you, Marshal?" said Merse.

Eli paused in his eating. "Don't believe a word he says, Matt. He wants you to get shet of me on account of I don't take any nonsense off him."

"I'll hear Merse out before I decide to believe him or not," said Matt. "You're not havin' breakfast, Chester?"

Chester leaned against the desk and sipped coffee. "I don't feel much like eatin' this mornin'."

"You sick?" said Matt.

"No, sir. Not at all."

Matt looked searchingly at Chester, then moved to Merse's cell. "What's on your mind, Merse?"

Merse put down his plate and stepped over to the bars. "Sinclair roughed Chester up last night," he said. "Smacked him and took his bed." Eli rose from his chair and Chester straightened up, setting his coffee cup on the desk.

"He's lying, Matt," said Eli.

"Got no call to lie," said Merse.

"But you are," Griswold said from the other cell.

"Don't pay him no attention, Marshal," said Merse. "He's trying to get in good with the deputy. They're two of a kind, Sinclair bein' a lawman irregardless."

"Are you gonna stand there and let him defame me, Matt?" said Eli. "He's nothing but a lowdown thief. A good punch will teach him not to lie."

"Chester?" said Matt.

"Yer deputy an' me had a scuffle agin last night," said Chester. "Ma bed ain't hardly worth fightin' over, but he done set 'is mind he's gone sleep in it, so he did."

"What's wrong with your arm?" said Matt.

Chester had unwittingly hugged his arm to his ribs as he spoke, wincing and digging his fingers in at the shoulder. "Not nary more'n a bruise," he said. "He jerked ma arm so's it has to work itself back up in the shoulder."

"Then the deputy pushed him down in the floor and threw his bedroll atop him," said Merse. "I seen it all."

"Chester called me a coward, Matt," said Eli. "He said I belonged in the trash barrel and I'd come to a bad end, and he slept the night with a shotgun at hand."

" 'Twarn't loaded, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "I done told 'im it warn't. I had it to defend maself iffen he fought me."

"He threatened to split my face open with it," said Eli.

"Mm-hmm," said Matt. "You're through, Eli. Take off the badge."

Eli unpinned the badge. "Think fast, Matt," he said, and hurled the star at Matt's face. Matt caught the badge before it hit him.

"Good heavens," Chester said softly. Eli barked laughter, his bass voice thudding in Chester's ears.

"You think fast alright, Matt," said Eli. "Move fast too, as you ever did. I won't risk a gunfight with _you_."

"Pack up and get out of Dodge, Eli," said Matt.

Eli planted his boots apart, hitched his pants, raised his jaw and narrowed his eyes at Matt. "Alright, Matt," he said. "I'll leave town. I'll pack up and buy me a horse at the livery, walk him back here to the jailhouse and tie him to the hitching rail before I go.

"I have no fight with Chester. Wouldn't be a fight with him, anyhow. I'd knock him out with one punch. It's you and me now, Matt," Eli said. "We're gonna have a reckoning behind the jail, so don't hide out somewhere, 'cause I'll find you."

"Mr. Dillon ain't feared of you," said Chester. "He'll fight you any time. Beat you, too."

"We'll see about that," said Eli. "Always wondered what it'd take to best you, Matt. I'm about to find out."

"I'll be here, Eli," Matt said.


	3. Chapter 3

Matt wanted to fight. He had no qualms, despite Eli's larger size and bulging muscles. Though he'd never seen Eli beaten by any man, Matt was sure he would win.

He easily contained his anger like a small fire in his gut. Knowing his wrath would strengthen him, he'd release it in spurts through his fists when the time came.

"I should help you fight Eli, maybe, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "He's some bigger'n you, if he ain't quite so growed-up. Them muscles is like boulders pokin' out his suit, and I never seed sech big fists."

"No," said Matt. "Thanks, Chester; I'll handle this."

"I feel it's my fault he's fightin' you," said Chester. "I s'pose I coulda tried harder ta do tolerable."

"It's not your fault, Chester. I'm sorry I didn't see earlier what Eli turned into. The war must've changed him. It affected a lot of men strange. Kitty warned me what he was."

They sat at the table drinking coffee. Matt was alert yet not disquieted, his limbs tensed for the fight.

"Miss Kitty, she di'n't like Eli one speck," said Chester. "She knows about his breed."

"Eli's likely headed down the street now," said Matt. He pushed back his chair and stood, fingered his badge and stepped out through the side door to the alley back of the jail, leaving his badge pinned on.

Chester followed Matt out and closed the door behind them. They heard hooves clopping the dirt nearby, and a moment later Eli appeared, hatless and without his six-shooter and gunbelt. Chester backed some yards away and watched.

"Think fast," said Eli, and swung his right fist at the marshal's jaw, too quick for Matt to duck. His head snapped back and pain sliced through his neck, buzzing in his head. He reeled, and Eli's left hammered the other side of his face, snapping his head back again.

Matt staggered. He felt blood trickle down his face from the blows and his vision blurred. Eli's fists were like mallets. He drove his right into Matt's stomach and the marshal doubled over.

As pain shot through his body to his fingertips, Matt sprang up and with all the force of his anger hit Eli under the jaw, then punched his gut. He stumbled, and Matt pummeled Eli's face with both fists as hard and fast as he could, driving Eli backward.

He swung at Matt with a wavering arm. Matt ducked the blow, drew back his fist, and with a loud grunt slammed the fist into Eli's jaw, rising up on his toes to throw his weight behind the punch. His knuckles split skin and the soft flesh beneath, and Eli fell on his back. His eyes closed and his head flopped to the side in the dirt, his face and nose streaming blood.

Matt leaned over and gasped, hands on his knees. Chester pumped water in a pail, limped to Sinclair and dashed the water hard in his face. Choking and coughing, Eli came to.

"You might wanna let Doc patch you up before you leave," said Matt. His legs felt weak, and his stomach and back pounded pain. Blood seeped from the two cuts on his face, and the cuts were starting to burn. A bloody string slid down his neck and wet his collar.

"No," said Eli. He groaned and slowly sat up. Chester pulled a bandanna from his back pocket, soaked it under the pump and handed it to Sinclair, who pressed his bloody face in the wet folds. "I want nothing more to do with this blasted town or anyone in it," he said, his deep voice muffled by the bandanna. "Especially you, Matt."

Eli struggled to his feet and hobbled toward Front Street, holding his arms out from his sides for balance. "We got a whiskey bottle," said Chester. "You kin have a swig or two if you want."

"I want nothing from you," said Eli. "But under the circumstances, I'd be biting my own nose to refuse, and my nose is already mangled."

"Ah'll bring it," said Chester.

Matt followed Eli to Front Street and watched as he untied his horse's reins and hauled himself into the saddle. Chester came out with an open bottle and gave it to Eli. He upended it and chugged, gulping half the whiskey, and flung the bottle on the ground.

Chester startled as the bottle shattered. "Goodness," he mumbled.

Eli let out a rumbling chortle. "Looks like you have a mess to clean up, Chester," he said. He slapped the reins on his horse's neck. _"YAAAHH!" _he shouted, his deep voice exploding into the air like a gunshot.

Chester jumped again as Eli's horse galloped away in a cloud of dust. "By _golly_," said Chester. "I ain't never been so thankful to see a man leave town in all ma days."

_M,D._~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cuts on Matt's face were deep gashes, and Doc said he needed stitches. Doc mixed morphine in water and gave it to Matt, then cleaned the cuts and stitched as Matt sat on Doc's table.

"Eli's like a wolf, snuck on you and Chester unawares and mauled you both," said Doc. "Chester, I'll take a look at your arm after I tend to Matt."

"Eli got the worst of the mauling," said Matt. "I told him to let you patch him up, Doc, but he wouldn't."

"Eli di'n't snuck on me unawares, Doc," said Chester, from his seat on the lounge. "I knowed what he was when he first stepped offen the stage."

"Kitty, Matt and I should've listened to you," said Doc. "If we had, Matt would've run him out of town a lot sooner, saved Chester some misery." Sitting on the lounge beside Chester, Kitty put her arm around him.

"Doc's right, Kitty," said Matt.

"Long as you and Chester aren't too bad hurt, Matt. That's all that matters," said Kitty.

"Let me see where he hit your belly, Matt," said Doc.

"Nothin' you can do for a belly bustin', Doc," said Matt.

"I'll be the judge of that," said Doc.

Matt unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a red mark the shape of Eli's big fist. The marshal winced as Doc's fingers probed his stomach. "Doesn't feel like he ruptured anything," said Doc. His fingers moved to Matt's ribs. "That hurt?"

"No. He didn't hit my ribs, Doc."

"Well I need to ask these questions, so just you give me straight answers. You spit up blood?"

"No."

"Were you sick after he hit you?"

"_No_, Doc."

"Matt. Stop being impatient and cooperate with Doc," Kitty ordered.

"Kitty, I _am _cooperating."

"If you spit up blood or get sick," said Doc, "come see me directly. I know it's a wild time with the trail herds, but try to take things easy a day or two at least. Let your body heal from those punches."

"I'll try, Doc, but there's one thing I won't put off," said Matt, buttoning his shirt. "I'm drawing up a petition to the judge pleading leniency on behalf of a bank robber, name of Merciful Nation."

"You can sit with Kitty while I look at Chester's arm, Matt," said Doc.

Matt and Chester changed places and Kitty nestled against the marshal, wrapping her arms around him and gazing at him with an inscrutable look. Matt wondered if the sapphire eyes he saw as enchanting whenever he looked into them read his thoughts and deciphered the secrets of his soul.

He wasn't at ease with Kitty showing him this much affection in front of Chester and Doc. She felt Matt stiffen, but kept hugging him. He relaxed slightly after a moment and put his arm around her.

"You gonna fix a sling fer ma arm, Doc?" said Chester.

"Well, you should wear one a few days 'til your joint mends," said Doc. "Eli sprained your shoulder. Put a nasty bruise on your arm, too. He must have a grip like a pair of iron tongs."

"Vicious brute," said Kitty, looking at the purplish-blue swelling on Chester's arm. "You should've killed him, Matt."

"He might wish he'd die while he's mending from the beating I gave him," said Matt.

Doc rubbed a salve on the bruise. "Put this on your skin here twice a day." He gave Chester a keen look and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't let anything Sinclair said get to you, Chester. Not a grain of truth in it."

"I know, Doc," said Chester. "I ain't let him git to me. Jest wore down is all."

"I'll give you a tonic," said Doc. He shook his head. "I'll wager you won't wanna touch your bed for a week after Sinclair's slept on it, by gum. Why don't you take yourself a good long nap on the bed in there, Chester. It's a sight more comfortable than your bed, anyway."

"Alright," said Chester. "I will."

"Then when you wake up," said Doc, "we can all go to Delmonico's."

END


End file.
